Tale of A Ghost
by EnderDragon Yoyo
Summary: A lone outcast begins a journey to change his own tide of fate.


He glanced up, narrowly avoiding the blade swung at him. A lock of hair loosened from his head, his body leaning back to avoid the second swing. A bead of sweat rolled down his head, this fight meant everything.

It wasn't life or death, but it felt like it.

He dodged another swing, holding his tantō as if it were a rapier and thrusting it at his opponent. She parried, a gust of wind coming up as their blades separated. He was quick to react, regaining his balance and going for another slice. Another parry.

This would not be getting him anywhere at this rate.

He dropped a smoke bomb, disappearing into the trees as the smoke enveloped the area. He began to push further into the foliage, trying to get away from his master. The trees began to blur in his eyes as he flew through the treetops, his eyes somehow managing to keep track of the area around him. Being unaware was dangerous for his line of work, being unaware meant death.

He dropped down, the green hoodie he was wearing blending in with the leaves. The metal braces on his arm began to reflect the light from the Sun, hiding his presence from anyone who would be looking for him. He stilled his breathing, sound was his worst enemy right now. Body relaxed but tensed, ready for any sign of opposition. He reflexively slid some kunai out of the pouch attached to his ankle, and began to wrap around the hilts.

He had a plan.

20 minutes after he had done what he needed to do, his opponent made her way into the clearing. He stood in the center, kneeling on top of a tree stump, seemingly relaxed. Behind his Kabuki mask, his expression was anything but, eyes whirling around and watching her every move.

She raised her butcher knife, her own Kabuki mask not indicating any expression. This was a challenge, a battle of wills.

There was a moment of silence, the world moving on without them.

His foot shook, making the stump creak. She took off and he followed, the sounds of clashing radiating through the area. Everytime the blades clashed against one another, his arm grew weaker. She was just simply too strong, muscles grown from years of fighting. But he was quick and clever, mind would beat brawn here.

He began to dodge her swings, slowly dancing around her, her swings kicking up dust particles. He jumped up swung and seemingly hit nothing. Until the sound of a wire snapping was heard.

From the tree stump, a sleek silver wire began to extend. It began to get tighter around the stump causing it to creek with pressure. The same small wires began to wrap around his master at various points, around her arms, thighs, and neck. The wire then began to drag her neck first, her body sliding around the ground until her head rested on the stump. He held his blade to where her heart was.

"Concede." He gasped out, his breathing ragged from the strenuous hard work he had put in.

A moment passed, and she held up two fingers.

The battle was his.

He swiped downwards, separating the wire from the stump, his master stood up rubbing her neck.

"You've gotten much better, haven't you." she said, lost in thought.

"Only as a result of your teaching, master." he replied quickly. Responding quickly and briskly was the only way to garner her respect. She would expect nothing but the best from someone who others had deemed a failure.

She briskly walked out of the clearing, walking out of it without another word to him. He quickly followed, the weight of his win weighing down on him. A win was not normally something people were normally worried about, but in his case, it was.

His mother had been an **Apothecary** , his father a, **Master Ninja**. His father had once been the head of his clan, a ninja revered through the lands. Everything changed, and it was all his fault.

His mother had been from outside the clan, not recruited by the family. His father and she had wed in secret, hiding their relationships from his grandparents for almost 10 years. Everything was fine until his mother had begin to show signs of pregnancy.

She, against his father's better judgement, had decided to keep him. His father hadn't been okay with this, having been recently accepted as the head of the clan. The clan found out of course, his father's visits to his mother's abode had been noticed easily, they were a clan of ninjas after all. He had no choice but to come out to his parents, to the rest of his clan. He was quickly removed from power, the clan deeming him unworthy of the title of **Master**. His mother had begrudgingly been accepted into the family, but she had never been treated with until then, their society had been as close to what they could deem pure-bloods, invite into the family only. They had not been okay with this usurper joining into their family. His father had been on and off again with her, until the clan had discovered him cheating. A sin for them, he was officially casted out of the clan. Months passed.

 _And his body was found._

A mangled mess of blood and guts, his face unrecognizable through it all. He had died in a kamikaze attack against a rival clan who had noticed him. He had died at the age of 33, a common age of death for the clan. His body had been burned, as tradition for the clan. His mother had followed him into the afterlife, an illness in lungs that she had since a child. And now he was alone, in this cold and dark world.

They arrived back at their 'home', a group of patrolling units following them the entire time. His eyes wearily watched as the shadows around him began to move, the voices of people being heard as they ventured deeper into compound. The corridor was wide, extremely quiet and ominous to anyone hadn't been living there for years. A second passed, an the Master revealed himself. He bowed to him, but was ignored.

"Has he completed his training?" The master spoke as if he wasn't even there, a lot of people did that now that he had thought about it.

"Yes, he has improved a substantial amount." She monotoned back to her leader, you were taught to this to be respectful and not too polite.

"Excellent." the man said, excitedly? His tone had shown some surprise but also happiness. He could not tell if that was good or not.

The man then turned to him, he stiffened his back as the man's Dragon mask stared back at him. His own Cat mask was a sign of class, it meant he was weak and everyone was strong. As of right now, he was the only one in the clan who wore the Cat mask.

"I have a mission of the utmost importance and I've decided that you are the person for the job. Should you choose to accept and complete the mission, you shall become one of my guard, the highest honor someone of... _your class_ can get."

What?

Someone of _his class_?! He was just like them, born in, not accepted, but born in. There was literally nothing that separated him from them at this point, he's lived here for years now. He had turned like them, bled like them, eaten at the same table as them! So why was he still treated like an outcast?!

"In addition, your father's honor will be returned and your mothers resting place will be moved inside the compound, with the rest of the family."

First things first, fuck his father. He walked out, so he shouldn't give a shit about him. His mother, however, had given him the world. She took many missions in order to improve their standing in the family, even while sick. She died for him, so he'll work for her.

"Ok...I'll do it."

The master smirked.

"Good. Complete this... _Elliot_ , and you'll rise through the ranks."

Okay.

He could handle anything thrown at him.

* * *

The marketplace was bustling in the afternoon, the smells of baked goods and the voices of traders radiating through the air.

"Watch it!" Another person snarled as they shoved him out of the way. He glared at the man through the holes in his mask, if looks could kill everyone in the marketplace would be dead. Between the sweltering heat, the people, and the noise, the young boy could not tell what the appeal of living in the capital of Ylisse was. It was a beautiful place, but the people were just... _aggravating_ to say the least.

He wouldn't have to be concerned for about them for too long, his mission destination was around the corner from where he currently was. The master had said he was to retrieve an important item of interest for the clan, failure was not an option.

He rounded the corner, colliding headfirst into something hard. His kabuki mask had taken the brunt of the hit, but _damn_ that had still hurt.

He reached up, almost rubbing his head through his mask before realizing the futility of it all. Hopping up to his feet, he looked at the person he walked into.

"Apologies." He quickly said, bowing his head slightly.

A lazy voice greeted him from beside the figure he collided into.

"Geez Princess, I knew you had a hard head but _wow._ I think the whole marketplace heard that noise." The man said between chuckles.

He bore a cloak similar to the one he wore, his orange hair shined in the sunlight. He was clearly some type of fighter but Elliot couldn't see his equipment from under his cloak.

"Shut up!" The voice was young, probably around his age. She was bright, to say the least. Bright blond hair, bright yellow dress, and a brown corset. Definitely a cleric, judging off of the staff she had picked up from the ground.

Elliot began to walk off, not really wanting to get between the bickering pair. They were attracting attention fro, the entire market and he really didn't want any of it.

But it seemed like Naga had different plans.

An arm grasped his, it was dainty and he could easily pull away, but doing so could cause problems.

"Nice mask!" It was the girl from before, the man who was with her close behind. He could his eyes examining him, judging whether he was a threat or not.

He had to leave.

"Umm, thanks?" Elliot whispered. Why did he whisper? He began to try to move, but the girls grip suddenly tightened.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Family heirloom, now if you'll excuse me."

He managed to shake her off, making brisk strides towards an alleyway, his destination. He could hear her behind him, clambering to the man about the mask he wore and how cool it was. He didn't blame her, it was a cool mask, he just didn't like talking to people.

The shop he entered had dust layering its contents, but the girl behind the counter appeared to be young. He silently walked up to it, her eyes snapping to his.

They had an intense staredown, her eyes never leaving his. She reached down to grab something, his body tensed, hand reaching behind him for a kunai. But she slid a package across the table, his target of interest.

He pocketed it, looking up to fond no one there, the shop eerily quiet.

Exiting the shop, he could see the afternoon giving way to night, the traders packaging up their supplies and the streets beginning to quiet.

It was time to go home.


End file.
